


Neither Couple Nor Trio

by Merfilly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comfort Sex, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint had a bad run. Natasha fixes him. With Phil's help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither Couple Nor Trio

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this scene in my head for weeks. It is finally cooperating with being written. 
> 
> Also, as with other works, I am not following AoS, but this is actually set ambiguously in continuity.

What they were was not a couple.

They weren't a trio, either.

No claims that formal, all of them had agreed. Natasha had her own reasons, Clint his, and Phil… Phil just accepted what was there, no matter if there was not a name for it. He even appreciated the freedom they gave him for other pursuits, because sometimes he just needed to be away from the secret agent life.

It didn't really matter that they never named it. When Phil's phone lit with a text of when and where to be if at all possible, he quickly cleared his schedule. Natasha was not the one to do that very often, and it flicked through his mind that either the world was about to explode again, or Clint was in trouble.

Either way, Natasha wanted him to meet her, and he would not fail her.

* * *

Clint arrived first. Natasha had planned it that way. He came into the apartment she sometimes remembered to use and looked for her. She tipped her head to the left, her eyes taking in all of him. He knew she saw the fatigue, the stress of his most recent run for SHIELD. Solo work seemed to be the trial now, in spite of their initial difficulty at working in tandem.

"Shower, then bedroom," she stated. Not so much a command, he knew, as just the logical plan of action. He nodded silently, going to take care of it swiftly. The hot water sluicing over his skin felt almost good enough to tarry there, but he knew Natasha had a plan.

She always did, and they usually worked out in his favor.

* * *

When Phil arrived, he had a note in Natasha's handwriting taped to the hook he normally put his coat on. He read it, raised an eyebrow, and then complied with the directions on it. He stripped quietly, laying his clothes over the couch back, and made sure he had not broken a sweat on his way over from his place, and the shower he'd taken there. By the time he entered the bedroom, his curiosity was up… and then it was lost in the stunning sight that was waiting.

Clint, fully nude, hands bound and arms lifted over his head by a strap that attached to a bar in the ceiling, was not something Phil could fail to appreciate. The stretch on the arms was minimal; Natasha would never risk his draw strength, but it did make for a long, lean sight. The part that truly drew Phil's eyes, though, was the fact that Clint was not only gagged but blindfolded. The senior agent let his eyes rove down that stretch of muscles and scars to see the each foot had been tethered to a bar set in the floor.

Phil had to admit that when Natasha took it in her mind to do something, she never did it by halves. Neither bar had been here the last time Phil had been invited. The bed had also been moved, so that Natasha had a good view from their side, as she was lounged across its foot.

"Yours." 

"I don't think I will waste it at all," Phil told her as he approached the captive agent. He ran a hand over the chest first, enjoying the way Clint's muscles tensed and then relaxed for the caress. Flattening his hand, Phil ran it slowly down the offering, focusing on exploring the scars first. He knew many of their stories, had caused a few of them by sending Clint into danger, and he never failed to appreciate the map they made. 

As his hand drifted lower, he kept note of the ones that made Clint tense more than the others, running their causes through his mind when he could. When his hand had continued below the belt line, Phil looked up at Clint's face, seeing the set of the jaw relax some. He spared a glance at Natasha, getting a slight nod and then a pillow aimed his way.

Phil caught the pillow, dropping it in front of his captive agent before sinking down on his knees. Without touching Clint with his hands, Phil let his lips catch the half-hard cock, taking in just the head. That got a verbal response, muffled as it was by the simple gag Natasha had put in place. Encouraged, Phil applied himself to giving Clint as much torturous pleasure as he could with mouth and tongue alone.

* * *

Clint normally hated being confined. This, however… he didn't have words for it. All the stress of existing had melted when Natasha took charge of him. He didn't have to move, couldn't see the world, couldn't protest anything, and all he knew was touch. From Phil's first caress to this tease of his cock, he was focused solely on pleasure. 

He was safe. Natasha had him safely in her care. He was cherished, someone other than an agent, other than a killer. Phil's touch over his scars had reminded him they meant something, but they were past. Now, here, just feeling the slide of a tongue, the breath against his pubes, the suction? It was a tiny slice of peace that seemed to stretch for eternity.

* * *

Endless moments of pleasure, taking Clint to the edge, backing him off again, and then building it up was Phil's sole agenda. He stretched the experience out as long as Clint could bear it before letting his captive break into full climax. Phil vaguely knew when Natasha rose from the bed, and he rose on cue to help support Clint's boneless body as the arms were lowered. Natasha took care of the ankle restraints then, placing a single kiss along Clint's thigh.

Between them, they got the archer to the bed, placing him between their bodies. Natasha slipped off the blindfold while Phil, on her nod at it, took the gag away.

No words were necessary as Clint got an arm under each, eyes still closed as he rode out the surreal feeling of being at peace.

They were not a trio, nor any form of a couple between them, but they did take care of each other.

That was all the claim they needed on each other.


End file.
